


What We've Become

by justbygrace



Series: Post GitF [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My version of the events from GitF to RotC.<br/>This was originally posted as a response to a prompt and was recently requested to be returned to the interwebs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You expect me to do WHAT?" Rose's hands were on her hips and her stance was set so much like a boxer ready to go a dozen rounds that the Doctor had to hide a smile, knowing that it would incite her rage further.

"Now Rose, listen..." he started to explain, and then was cut off by an irritated noise that sounded so much like Jackie that he jumped a bit and one hand went protectively to his cheek. It may have been an entire regeneration ago, but that woman had put the the force of every Tyler and Prentice woman clear back to the Dark Ages in that slap. He still got phantom pains in his cheek when he was about to do something particularly daft in regards to Rose Tyler.

"Do not patronize me, Time Lord. I know Sarah Jane's number now and I am not afraid to use it." Rose narrowed her eyes at him and he shrank back slightly, shuddering at the mental image of Rose and Sarah Jane conspiring against him.

Just the memory of the two of them laughing hysterically when he walked in to the classroom at Deffry Vale still gave him nightmares. Not that he wasn't perfectly, exquisitely thrilled that the two of them had stopped sniping and become friends, but did they really have to become the very best of friends? He, personally, would have preferred more a pen-pal or a nod and smile at the grocers type of friendship for the two of them.

He knew that Sarah Jane would not have approved of his Parisian exploits any more than Rose or the TARDIS or Mickey had. Not that there had been _exploits_ per se, but there had been the kiss and he hadn't exactly done anything to convince Rose that there hadn't been more than that. He wanted to, well, he mostly wanted to, well, he wanted to want to, but there hadn't been time and he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to make time, he could admit that much. Suddenly aware that Rose's eyes were taking on an even more dangerous gleam, he gulped and straightened hurriedly.

"Right, no need for all that," he said very not patronizingly at all, though the slight clearing of Rose's throat suggested she felt differently. He hurried on. "It really isn't that difficult at all. You just have to put on this outfit and sing a bit while I collect the information. You know this is important. If we are to get what we need then this is how we have to do it."

"Oi, I was at the meetings for the last three days same as you." Rose rolled her eyes at him. "I understand the ridiculous plans you agreed to."

"They aren't, they aren't ridiculous, Rose! This is the best place to meet the contact and we can't be seen together," he explained patiently. He couldn't understand what was so complicated for her to understand.

"So, one of us couldn't wait on the TARDIS? Instead of dressing up and dancing provocatively?" She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow.

"No, that won't work at all. Because if something goes wrong we need to be nearby so that we can assist each other. Isn't that what we do?" he asked, pouting slightly that she didn't immediately jump to that conclusion.

She snorted indelicately. "Whatever. So, I have to put on that...those bits of string and cloth and _sing_ whilst you prance about and flirt to get information, is that it?" Rose's gaze darted from the, okay, slightly impractical but rather flattering (if a Time Lord thought about such things, which Time Lords did not) outfit in the Doctor's hand to his face, with raised eyebrows that suggested that he come up with an alternative plan and quickly.

"Mickey could always wear it?" he suggested, having just remembered that Mickey was, in fact, sprawled lazily across the jumpseat, watching the two of them intently. It was so easy to forget that the boy was around, but he supposed he had his uses, especially if he could be talked into putting on a show so that they could get their information and get the hell out of Dodge, to borrow a phrase.

"Mickey will do no such thing," came the very emphatic response from the direction of the lad.

"Now Mickety Mick.” The Doctor turned towards him with his most imploring expression (which he had been told had the ability to charm anyone). "It's only for one evening, not even that. Forty-five minutes, really. An hour at most. I bet you would look quite dashing. We've got this in a style that would fit you."

His imploring did not move Mickey to anything other than tears of laughter. "No can do, mate. I'm not parading around with my junk hanging out. Too bad Captain Cheesecake isn't here, he'd be thrilled."

The Doctor spun towards Rose, hoping she hadn't caught the reference to Jack, but of course she had. Her face had fallen, any mirth at the idea of Mickey in a g-string fading at the thought of the missing Captain. One of these days he was going to tell her the truth, he really and truly was, but there hadn't been time to talk about...well, anything at all. They had been so rushed since his regeneration, always running about and saving everything there had been no good time. A voice in his head with a suspiciously Northern accent whispered that the running was just an excuse, but he hastily told it to piss off, he was head of the show now.

"I'm sorry, Rose, I..." he began, but was cut off by a wicked gleam in Rose's eyes that he did not like at all.

"If you think that it would be so easy, why don't you just do it?" Her shoulders were straight again and there was a set to her mouth that made him think this wasn't a battle he was going to win, but he had to try.

"Me, well, I don't, I just think that..." he stuttered, aware that he was doing a horrible job of arguing his case, but even the mere idea (to say nothing of the action) of ditching his very comfortable and modest suit for the leopard-print g-string was going to give him nightmares for months, years, milleniums even.

"Yeah, you jumped on the idea for me quick enough. Why don't you give it a go yourself?" Mickey called, ignoring the dark look the Doctor shot him.

"Are you saying it's okay for me to wear something of that sort and parade around and not for you? Because I'm a girl?" Rose had her arms folded across her chest and was giving him the Look, the one that said he may be the Lord of time and space, but she was Rose Tyler and had once consumed all of time and space just for him and, as such, owed him exactly nothing. 

He sighed in defeat. "Yeah, fine. I'll do it. Just, do you know who we're looking for?" 

"Yeah. Dark-haired girl. About yea high. I saw her in the park same as you." Rose laughed suddenly, her tongue showing between her teeth and reminding him of the other reasons why he tended to do what she asked. "I don't know that she's really your type anyway, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, you know, I saw that too." Mickey had jumped off the seat and was heading towards the TARDIS doors. "Ready to go then, Rose?"

"Yep!" The Doctor resolutely ignored the way she had already started to pop her p's the way he did now. "You going to be okay there, Doctor?"

"M'Fine." He turned his back to the pair of them. 

"Doctor?" He jumped when her hand landed on his arm, gentle and so small, but the most powerful hand he had ever come across, with the ability to make Kings and Lords fall at her feet without even trying. 

He forced himself to meet her gaze and was almost surprised (and then called himself every sort of fool for even entertaining that emotion) at the compassion and concern in her gaze. 

"If you don't want to, I can--" she started and he cut her off because, no, he was not as prepared to see her in nothing but a string bikini as he had been a mere ten minutes ago.

"Don't doubt my prowess with a stage and a microphone, Rose Tyler." He winked at her lasciviously and watched, fascinated, as she turned pink and then red.

"Good, that's good then. Glad for you, erm, look forward to, um, seeing, erm." She backed up and spun, grabbing Mickey's arm and practically dragging him for the door. 

"See you later!" he called after them with a grin, mind turning over with new and wonderful ideas to make this evening turn out brilliantly. He soundly ignored the slight tingling of his cheek that suggested that Jackie Tyler might not thoroughly approve of his plans.


	2. Chapter 2

When the Doctor had first suggested that she put on a leopard-print bikini (well, bikini was generous - it was more like some bits of fabric and dental floss) and perform on stage, Rose's response had been a flat-out refusal. She had not agreed to come with the mad man in the blue box to do the very same thing she could have done years ago back on the Estate (and there had been one period of her life - right around the time of Jimmy - that she almost had). His mere suggestion combined with the built up hurt of Deffry Vale and Paris had evoked a raging inferno within her and she wouldn't have touched that costume for anything. She had never in a hundred years expected that between her and Mickey they would convince the Doctor to dress the part of the stripper and sing for cash!

As she trotted towards the shady venue with Mickey at her side, she shook her head to clear it of images of the Doctor dressed, or undressed, like that. It didn't work, mostly because images of that sort had been creeping around her mind for the better part of a year, only until recently they had centered on a leather jacket and work boots. She briefly entertained the wish that this little scenario had happened with her first Doctor, but she quickly put it from her mind. Firstly, because Mickey was right, and Jack would have absolutely jumped over backwards for this chance, and secondly, because she knew that the two Doctors were the same man, even if the packaging had changed somewhat. The word packaging sent her mind back to visualizing what the Doctor might look like and she nearly stumbled into Mickey when he paused outside of the club.

"You alright?" His kind tone brought her thoughts firmly back to the present.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She shrugged as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, I'll just bet you are."

"What do you mean by that?" She narrowed her eyes at him, not liking his smug tone one bit.

He snorted again, a very bad habit he was getting into since the Doctor had invited him along, and led the way into the club without saying anything else, though she thought she heard the words "dumbest couple ever" float back to her in the breeze.

Once they were inside, Rose pushed all thoughts of the Doctor and his role in the evening firmly out of her mind. She had a goal, and the sooner she accomplished it the better. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that if she finished her part quickly she could devote all of her attention to the Doctor's..."performance", but she ignored it, focusing on scanning the crowd for her contact.

Rose spotted her leaning against a pillar about halfway to the stage, a drink in one hand and a smoke in the other. Nodding to Mickey, Rose made her way down, trying to remember everything she had ever observed the Doctor do while undercover. 

Her name was Cria and she absolutely was interested in anything Rose was willing to give up. In another lifetime, at another place, if there wasn't a Time Lord in a leopard-print g-string somewhere in this club for whom she had promised her forever, Rose would have been very interested. As it was, the women bonded over crappy exes and the oblivious loves of their lives, sharing shots of hypervodka while swapping stories and more facts than Cria was aware that she was giving. 

Rose had the information she needed inside of twenty minutes and her feet up on the rickety table, casually chatting with her new best friend when the lights dimming signaled that a new dancer was coming on stage. She had only been partially paying attention the stream of men, women, robots, undecided, multi-gender, and various alien lifeforms that had been dancing and singing their way across the stage.

The crowd was excited. Apparently rumors were swirling that this dancer was not only brand new to this club, but also incredibly sexy and talented. Rose sat up a little straighter, eyes intent on the stage even as she wished she was literally anywhere in the galaxy but here. Before she could contemplate a quick escape to the TARDIS, the lights went down, the stage lights went up, and the crowd went wild.

The Doctor pranced his way onto the stage, his hips swiveling in a way that Rose was unaware that hips could move, every step designed to draw attention and flaunt his wares. And oh, did he have the raw materials to flaunt. His chest, oiled to perfection gave way to a muscled stomach and hip bones - dear God, she had never before had a thing for hip bones, but his were a thing of true beauty. His long, bare, toned legs, - runner's legs, some still-functioning part of her brain supplied - moved hypnotically. And between, oh between, that little bit of leopard-print hardly left anything to the imagination as he danced, cavorted, and sashayed his way across the stage. 

Barely remembering to close her mouth, Rose stared at the Time Lord as he lifted the microphone to his mouth, his lower half still shaking to the beat, and began to sing. She had only heard him sing once, quite by accident, during the first few days post his regeneration and it had been down a corridor and around the corner. This was nothing like that. That had been something light and flirty and definitely g-rated. This was not. This was unashamedly about every dark and dirty thing of which Rose had thought Time Lords were unaware.

Somehow, some way, in the mass of frantically screaming bodies, the Doctor found her and his gaze locked with hers. She forgot to listen to the words, forgot that she was supposed to be maintaining a cover, forgot everything that wasn't the way his lips were forming words, the way he was almost obscenely fondling the microphone, the way his left hand was splayed across his stomach and hip. So caught up was she in the beat, the song, the Doctor, that when Cria cleared her throat loudly in Rose's ear, she jumped clear out of her chair and spilled her drink.

"Isn't that the Doctor?" Cria sounded very suspicious and Rose suddenly remembered she had a job and a mission.

"Doctor?" Rose said blankly. "I don't think I know a Doctor." Not one of her brighter moments, obviously.

"It is. And you were with him," Cria said slowly, eyes going back and forth between the stage and Rose. "You're the girl with the Doctor. I remember you."

"Nope, must have been someone else." Rose forced herself not to look back at the stage, even though she was desperate to catch another glimpse of the Doctor.

"No, it was totally you," Cria nodded. "And that means, oh, your stories. He's your love, isn't he?"

"Um..." Rose didn't have a good reply to that.

"Don't bother denying it. I'm good at reading manipulation. Or I thought I was," she added wryly. "And here I sat and told you everything. Stupid, that's what I am. Guess there's no use asking you not to use it."

Rose sighed. "Sorry. But even you have to admit that this slave trade you've got going on is barbaric."

"Meh, depends on how you look at it." Cria stood up, looking down at Rose sadly. "Look, I like you, I think we could have been friends, so I'm going to give you and your Doctor a chance to clear out. Cause I have to let my superiors know about this."

"Right, guess you've got to do what you've got to do." Rose stood as well, sneaking a quick glance at the stage. The Doctor had moved on to another song complete with squats that were, well, they were... Rose blinked hastily and tore her gaze away. "How did you recognize the Doctor, by the way?"

"His outer appearance may change, but inside he is the same man. We've been passing his aura around for generations." Cria smiled slightly and turned to walk away. "Oh," she looked back over her shoulder. "It's not as unrequited as you think it is with your Doctor."

"He's not-" Rose started to shout, but Cria was gone, "my Doctor," she finished quietly.

"What happened?" Mickey was suddenly right there beside her. "Where's she gone to? And blimey, have you seen the Doctor? Where do you suppose he's learned moves like that?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Rose said, suddenly irritated towards the entirety of the male species. "Come on, I've got some information to deliver and then we can get off this god-forsaken excuse for a planet."

She led the way through the crowd, ignoring Mickey's protests of "But shouldn't we wait for the Doctor." Logically she knew that him up there on that stage was her idea, but logic hadn't had much to do with any of the decisions she had been making recently. She had been angry since his regeneration, since the school, since Paris, oh, especially since Paris. Perhaps getting him to put on a leopard-print g-string wasn't the best revenge, but it looked pretty sweet from here. 

There was a part of her that wanted to run home, to pour out her heart to Jackie and allow her mum to slap some sense into the Time Lord, but there was a larger part of her that understood that wasn't the answer either. She was a big girl now and it was time to put on her big girl knickers and grow up. And there was no time like the present to start.

Rose knew where the rebel headquarters were and she led the way unerringly, intent on her mission. The leaders were surprised to see her and doubly surprised to see her sans Doctor, but delighted with her information. They asked her and Mickey to stay and help, but she offered their regrets, really can't, sorry, must go. 

As she headed off down the street towards the TARDIS, Mickey hot on her heels, she was struck by the realization that she was behaving precisely the way the Doctor always did. In the beginning, back when she was young and naive, she had been confused as to why he never stayed to clean up, oftentimes not even staying for the actual revolution, and now she thought she understood. 

This was not their fight. This was not their time to shine. Their place in history was to swoop in and say the right thing at the right time, give the right person a push in the right direction and then move on. Occasionally they could play the part of the hero, but along with the applause of the hero came the burden of one, and it was not like the Doctor needed any more guilt to add to his shoulders. Nor, Rose mused, did she. After all this time, she had her own fair share of guilt and burdens from actions taken and things said and planets saved or not saved. 

Mickey was oddly silent as they walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets. At length she bumped his shoulder with hers. They were too old and too good of friends for tense silences to last long.

"Reckon the Doctor'll be mad?" he asked.

"If he is, it's his own damn fault," she said, forgetting to curb her bitterness for a moment.

He drew up short, surprised.

She had been careful to hide the worst of her anger from him and she regretted letting it shine through now. "Sorry, Mickey. He won't be mad at you. Or at me, probably." Rose offered him a small smile and ducked down an alley, a shortcut if she remembered correctly.

"Rose, if you want to talk..." He let the rest of his sentence hang.

"I know, Micks. And I appreciate it, I do. But this is, this is one I have to fight through on my own. Well, me and him, I think. We've all got to grow up sometime, yeah?"

"He could afford to do a little more growing up," he muttered darkly and she laughed.

"Yeah, he could. But Mickey, I still, I still love him. Even if I also hate him a little too. And I think that's the way these things go, you know." She paused, surveying their surroundings, trying to remember which way to go from there.

"Can't say as I do know," Mickey said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Mickey." She stopped and turned towards him fully. "I wasn't fair to you."

"Well," he laughed a little. "I wasn't exactly the world's best boyfriend. Bit of a prat, really."

She shrugged, self-deprecatingly. "That's my type, apparently."

"Rose, don't say that. You deserve better than me or him or, or Jimmy or anybody really." Mickey shook his head at her.

"Thanks, you're the best." She smiled, not really believing him, and led the way on down the alley, growing less sure of her directions with each step.

A moment later they stepped into a sudden circle of light and were surrounded by a group of people. There was a lot of shouting and shoving and she took off running, desperately grabbing onto Mickey's hand and dragging him along, up the street, ducking around corners, and leading them further away. 

It was weird to run holding Mickey's hand and she didn't like it. Mickey's fingers were shorter, stubby in a way that she had almost forgotten about, with creases and callouses where she wasn't used to there being any. She knew it was silly to be so focused on the feel of Mickey's hand in hers while they were fleeing from danger, but fleeing was kind of how she lived her life and she couldn't help the comparison. Even though her first and second Doctor's selves were so very different, holding their hand had been familiar; it's why when her hand slipped into the Doctor's, standing there in the debris of an exploded ship, she had known then, known in a visceral, soul sort of way, that he was the same man. She suddenly knew what Cria had meant by the Doctor's aura.

It wasn't an earth-shattering realization, but it helped something that had shifted sideways in the depths of Rose's being to slide back into place. Gripping Mickey's hand more firmly in hers, Rose dragged him forward, the thump of her heart coinciding with the sound of their feet hitting the pavement and creating the song that was the background music of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

As the Doctor buttoned and zipped himself back into the layers of his suit, he wondered where on earth Rose had gotten to. He had seen her during his first dance and it seemed as if, well, it did seem like, well, anyway...but then she had broken eye contact and when he had next looked for her she was gone. He had scanned the mass of undulating bodies fruitlessly; she had well and truly disappeared. He had also been unable to catch a glimpse of either their contact or Mickey and that worried him. What on earth had Rose gone and done now?

He laced up his trainers, desperately blocking out the voice that was commenting on how whatever it was that Rose was doing she was probably doing it a great deal better than he would in her place. His Rose was, well, she was truly magnificent, but she was also jeopardy-friendly and he liked to know where she was going and what she was up to. He wondered if that sounded a bit too much like a possessive and jealous boyfriend type and then decided he didn't care, not until he saw Rose again. Things between the two of them were too fragile to risk anything happening just now. At that thought a flash of panic went through him, and he jumped to his feet and fled through the building, ignoring the looks of rage from the people he plowed past.

The general state of things between the allies and the rebels was tenuous, resting on a knife's edge, and it would take only the slightest push to send the whole thing toppling, and it would happen soon. He had no desire for him or Rose to be anywhere in the vicinity of this planet when that happened; he knew how this ended, how it had to end, and it was a fixed point. Their only goal here was to provide a bit of information to the right people and then hightail it out of there. He wondered if he had taken the time to explain any of that to Rose, and knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had not.

When he hit the streets, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was too quiet, the calm before the storm, and it kicked his heartbeats up another notch. He took off wildly, desperately peering down alleyways and behind buildings for a glimpse of blonde hair. If he could just find her first maybe he could save her - he could do that, he really could, and then it might even out the balance between them. 

He heard the chaotic shouts of the crowd before he saw them, and when he did he felt his stomach flip. This was a group of people intent on death and destruction and they wanted it now. The ideals of what they had stood for, had argued for, were gone, and all that remained was pure and total rage. It was the sort of rage that destroyed cities, countries, people groups, and it was about to destroy this planet. Somewhere along the lines one of them had upset the balance and Volcano Day had been pushed up.

There was no doubt in his mind that Rose was in that crowd and he charged in after her. Whatever cockeyed plan she had for talking them out of it must be stopped. Didn't she understand that sometimes people needed to work things out on their own and they couldn't always swoop in and save the day? Hadn't he taught her that during their very first trip to watch her planet burn? His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and he reacted without thinking, knocking people out of his way to find Rose.

He was halfway through the crowd when he began to hear the rumors that someone had been executed for treason. Whirling around, the Doctor grabbed the first hapless creature he could set his hands on, throwing him against the wall and demanding a location and a name. The creature was terrified, squeaking out his obliviousness of the name of the dead but the location was the town square. For a moment the Doctor considered continuing to squeeze until the creature's breath was gone, but held himself back, whispering that if she was dead he was coming back to lay waste to this entire place himself.

Dropping the writhing creature to the ground, the Doctor turned and ran, his innate sense of direction taking him unerringly towards the town square. He tried to focus only on the sounds of his trainers hitting the pavements instead of on what he might find when he arrived. He could feel all of the unsaid things between him and Rose rise like bile in his throat, attempting to choke him, and he couldn't breathe, respiratory bypass or no respiratory bypass.

He was a street away when somebody suddenly streaked out of a nearby alley, catching his hand and dragging him bodily back into the darkness. At first he was angry - who dared to interrupt his mission? - and then the fingers holding his hand closed more firmly around his and he stopped fighting. He would know those hands anywhere. From the first moment he had grasped them in a dark basement in London, they had clamped around his soul and dragged him into the light. 

He tested the connection, allowing each place where their skin touched to register, cataloging it, making sure of it. Her hands were a little different now and not only because his own hands were a little different - there were callouses and scars, the rings were mostly gone, the nails practical. For a moment his blood ran cold, what if it wasn't actually her? He couldn't bring himself to look at her, afraid he was creating all of this in a dream. In a panic, he ran his thumb along hers, the feeling of the telltale hangnail brought a relief to his mind that nothing else could. Despite everything he had dragged her through, she was still Rose Tyler. He tightened his grip and matched his stride to hers, delighting in the easy way the two of them ran together.

When they reached the TARDIS, she had her key out first and they burst through the doors together, Mickey close on their heels. Rose slammed the door while he hit the button to begin the dematerialization sequence. He turned back to her, eyes wide with delight, ready for their customary post-reunion hug and stopped short. The look on her face suggested quite strongly she was not in the mood for hugs, post-reunion or no.

For a moment they stared at one another at an impasse. He broke first.

"Rose, I..." he paused, unsure where he was going and what, of all the hundred and one things he needed to say, he should say first.

"I swear, if the next words out of your mouth are some sort of bullshit excuse..." she cut off, shoulders shaking, and that told him more than anything else that she was closer to the edge than he had realized.

"No, Rose, I'm done making excuses." She looked skeptical and he hurried on. "I am. We've... I've left a lot unsaid and I promise that anything you ask, I'll...I'll answer."

"Really? Anything?" She crossed her arms.

"Yes, anything." He gulped, desperately hoping she'd start with something easy.

"Jack. What happened to him?" Straight to the big guns then.

"You happened. When you came back, you had powers, I told you that?" He waited for her to nod before he continued. "You used your power to make Jack immortal. He, uh, he can't die. Ever, as far as I can tell. And that's wrong, Rose, and I was a coward and didn't want him around. And so I left him there."

Her eyes were wet, but she spoke steadily. "Do you know where he is now?"

"Cardiff. Doing very well, but I'm not ready to see him." He shrugged, unable to explain his instincts about Jack.

"Okay. We'll talk about that later. Um, Sarah Jane." 

"What about her?" He was aware he sounded defensive and tried to give her an encouraging smile.

"I, I don't...did you love her?" Rose crossed her arms in what looked more like she was trying to protect herself than that she was attacking him.

"I have loved all of my companions, Rose. All differently than others, some platonically, some familially, some romantically. Sarah Jane was special to me at one point in my life, but Rose, that was before the War, before I lost my planet and it was long before the body you met me in," he pleaded for her to understand what he couldn't bring himself to state.

"I understand why you didn't tell me about her - well, I understand that you have had a long life - but can you...can you promise that you will try to tell me a little something about you every day?" She was chewing on her bottom lip and at the moment, the Doctor would have promised her anything.

"I can promise that I will try," he agreed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, um..."

A shuffle of feet from the corner drew both of their attention, and they jumped a bit to see Mickey standing there.

"My god! I really am the tin dog!" he exclaimed, staring at them in disbelief.

"No, no, Mickey. We, I, just..." the Doctor trailed off.

"Sorry, Micks, we were a bit distracted," Rose apologized, sounding significantly more sorry than the Doctor had (or than he felt). 

"I can't believe it. You've just gone and forgotten that I am even in the same room!"

"No, no, I didn't forget. I knew you were there. I was...distracted," the Doctor said. "But could you maybe not be in the same room though?"

"And now you're kicking me out! Unbelievable." Mickey shook his head and started towards the hall.

At Rose's soft sound of apology, the Doctor sighed. "Listen, Mickey, there's a bit of calibration needed for the TARDIS. Could you watch the monitor and when the screen lights up just push and hold that button for a few minutes? Rose and I will step out and finish this and be back in a jiff."

"Yeah," Mickey brightened. "I can do that."

"Good man." The Doctor patted his shoulder as he led the way into the corridor. The TARDIS had conveniently moved the kitchen just down the hall and he moved that direction restlessly, afraid the worst part of the conversation was just ahead. 

"So," he said when they were safely out of Mickey's earshot and gathering the ingredients for tea. "You were saying?"

"Oh, um, I..." Rose's grip on her mug looked as if she was contemplating hurling it across the room. "You know what? Why are you making me say it? You know what the problem with Paris was and you being a great baby and pretending like it didn't exist or that you can just get away with putting all the burden on talking about it when it was you that got on a bloody horse and charged through a mirror like you didn't care about anything other than yourself."

"Would it help if I apologized?" he asked tentatively.

"It would be a start, considering as you haven't even done that much yet," she muttered.

"I am sorry, Rose. I jumped through without a plan because that's what I've always done and it's really a stupid way to live a life. Thinking of the consequences isn't always something I do and I am working on that, you're helping me work on that." He ran a hand through his hair. "And for the record, I didn't want her to kiss me and I didn't kiss her again."

"But you were so excited, crowing about snogging her at the top of your lungs." She grabbed the teapot and poured the boiling water into their mugs.

"I shouldn't have done that, the crowing bit." He stared down at his tea as the water gradually changed color. "She was a pretty accomplished woman and snogging her was a bit like snogging history."

Rose let out a brief laugh at that, but it was a real one and that was something. "Snogging history, huh? Think you forgot that bit when you mentioned you travel in time and space."

He smiled, but refused to allow her to let him off the hook. If they let this go now it wasn't going to come up again, and for once he didn't want that. "I wouldn't have just settled down happily with her. I need you to know that. I would have fought tooth and nail to get back to you."

She blushed and glanced away. "Thanks for saying that."

"It's true. Snogging history is a once in a lifetime experience and you, you're not." It was his turn to blush and glance away. Why did he feel so much like a schoolboy around his first crush? 

"For a human," she agreed blithely. There was something in how she said it that rankled him.

"No, Rose, I shouldn't have said that. I knew it the moment those words came out of my mouth and I know it more now." He leaned forward, desperate to communicate this. "You are so much more than a human. You're...you're Rose Tyler."

"Well spotted," she joked. "But I'm pretty sure I am a human version of Rose Tyler."

"I'm not saying this right." He stared at the ceiling as if the curved bronze interior would give him answers. "You're so much more, so much better than any Reinette or history book or, or me!"

She gave him a strange look. "That's the second time someone's said something like that to me tonight." 

"Well, it's true." He picked up his mug and took a deep gulp as if defying her to argue.

Rose merely shrugged at him. 

"You consumed the Time Vortex, you've saved my arse more times than I can count, you've saved the Earth and multiple other planets over and over, and you rescued your family when I couldn't. Even tonight you got the information and gave it to the people that needed it and then saved me. Again." He couldn't help the edges of envy curling around his tone.

"Hold on, what's this about?" She tilted her head and studied him, a little too deeply for his comfort. "Are you trying to say that you're upset because things aren't...fair between us?"

"No!" he said, perhaps a touch too loudly. "You just, you don't need me."

"Doctor, this isn't a competition. At least, not on my end. You taught me, and this is me just trying to put that into effect. Besides, I'm always going to need you." She grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers as she spoke. 

"Yeah?" He gave a little squeak of happiness.

"Yes," she said decisively. "We need each other. Even when we fight. Especially when we fight, I think. It's what I realized tonight amidst everything."

He couldn't resist dragging her to him and wrapping his arms around her waist and he didn't even try. 

"Is that all you realized tonight?" he asked when he had let her go, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Really? You want to bring up that performance right now?" She shook her head at him, but grabbed his hand, dragging him back towards the console room.

"Well, I thought it was pretty good. One of my best, even," he said, wrinkling his forehead in thought.

"One of your best?" she asked, voice raised high. "One of?"

"Well, I've...done things before, you know. I told you I danced." He winked at her as they settled on the jumpseat together.

"Yeah, but I thought you were talking about, you know, dancing..." she cut off at the look on his face and punched his arm. "We may have to revisit the subject of that dancing again at some point."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "As long as it isn't on Vruska. I don't have a good track record there."

"No? Better or worse than on Javarty?" Rose asked, leaning back and grinning at him. "The one with those, oh what were they?"

"Javarties? Yes! We were running and you tripped me!"

"I did not!" 

"And that weird munchkin lady with the big eyes! Do you remember? The way she looked at you? And then she opened her mouth and fire came out?" He recounted the experience to the sound of Rose's laughter, delighted that things were back to normal - no, better than normal. Let the world come at them, they would take it on together.


End file.
